


with you, i am home

by tidalwaveofbluebirds



Series: original works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Acceptance, Coming Out, F/F, Families of Choice, Family Reunions, Fluff, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Old Married Couple, Past Child Abuse, Running Away, Self-Esteem Issues, Trans Male Character, a lot of the sadder stuff is referenced in past tense, but let me know if i need to add more tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17805011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tidalwaveofbluebirds/pseuds/tidalwaveofbluebirds
Summary: Twenty years changes a lot of things, but sometimes the past still needs to be properly confronted and put to rest when a new face wants to meet you.





	with you, i am home

**_with you,_** ** _i_ ****_am_ ****_home_ ** 

Exhaustion clings to my bones, threatening to drag me to floor, the tight knot in my chest pinning me there. Today has been far too long. Rubbing my eyes, I mutter underneath my breath, “Idiot. What did you expect from her?”  _(_ _Love and acceptance in the beginning; slow understanding at this point_ _. Naivety is a foolish thing.)_  

Keys rattling in my hands, I unlock the apartment door, my “I’m home” instantly being drowned out by loud music. Closing and relocking the door quickly  _(hoping that the neighbors won’t complain)_ , I watch as Luke dances with Maria, spinning in circles and badly lip singing along with the Spanish lyrics. The six-year-old is laughing wildly, threatening to spill out of his hold, bent over the arm across her back. And just like that, the exhaustion is replaced by love, familiar warmth flowing through my blood, the knot in my chest unraveling. 

“Papa,” she cries, wiggling, demanding to be let down. With six seconds until impact, I throw my bag across the room  _(glad that I left the laptop at home today)_  and drop to the ground, biting back a yelp as my knees slam into the hard wood, then letting out that yelp as Maria slams into me, knocking me onto my back, head slightly bouncing against the ground, legs splayed out. I laugh, lifting the squealing girl over my head with a smile. 

“Got to stop trying to break me, love. I’m getting old.” 

“And fragile apparently,” Luke adds, coming to stand over the two of us, hands on his hips and a grin on his lips, wearing the “World’s Greatest Auntie” apron that Maria insisted we get for him two Christmases ago  _(_ _just learning_ _how to read at the time, her only reason was “it has his favorite colors”; I went along with it because_ _it_ _was, and still it,_ _hilarious, and knowing my shameless husband, he would wear it every chance he could get)_. “How are you an eighty-year-old man, when you’re only two years younger than me?” 

“I work more than you,” I say  _(never mind the fact that he’s a personal trainer and I’m a history professor),_  lowering Maria back down to my chest. She flips over onto her back and sticks her tongue out. 

“Yeah, Daddy! And you’re supposed to be nice to the elderly.” 

My cry of outrage and Luke’s howling laughter gets us a broomstick banging against our floor from the downstairs neighbors. Luke offers me a hand, pulling me up to my feet, Maria clinging to my arm like a little monkey. “You’re turning our daughter against me,” I accuse, no heat behind the words, just the knowledge that their alliance is growing stronger by the day and my impending doom is coming sooner than I would like. 

“Absolutely,” Luke teases back, closing the four-inch height difference between us to kiss me briefly. “But you love it.” 

“Yeah! You love it!”  

Not bothering to deny the truth, I peek around Luke to see what’s cooking on the stove. “I’m making mac and cheese,” Maria says, her smile showing off her two missing front teeth  _(I’m still_ _amazed_ _that an elementary school student could throw a dodgeball hard enough to knock them out.)_  

“Well,” I start, “somebody better stop the water from boiling over.” Luke’s head whips around, sock covered feet gliding across the floor, quick hands turning off the heat and lifting the pot up before the angry bubbles could make a mess. Shifting Maria to my hip, I kick off my shoes, nudging them closer to the couch so no one could trip over them  _(Luke still hasn’t let go that one time he tripped over them and landed on the vacuum, shattering his collarbone),_ watching my husband of ten years quickly pour the noodles through the strainer in the sink. Maria pats my shoulder, “Down please.” 

Setting her down, I lean my hip against the counter, watching her stand up on her step stool in front of the oven as Luke brings the noodles back to her. Watching as they rip open the cheese packets, shaking out the neon orange mix into the pot. Watching as Maria carefully  _(as though she_ _’s_ _a heart surgeon)_  slice off part of a stick of butter, carefully measure out the exact amount of milk, dumping both in almost carelessly. Watching as Luke helps her stir the mix, his hand dwarfing both of hers, encouraging her determined little self, her tongue sticking out in concentration.  

“See something you like?” Luke asks, smiling up at me, his unoccupied hand making a grabby motion at me. I give him my hand, laughing as he pulls me closer. I drop a kiss to Maria’s wild curls before tipping my head up to kiss Luke again, muttering, “Just my two-favorite people in the whole wide world.” 

“Cheesy,” Luke laughs, dragging his finger up against the wooden spoon, catching some of the cheese clinging higher up, pressing it against my nose. I affectionally roll my eyes, wiping it off. “Hey, Little Mouse, I’ll finish stirring if you set the table.” 

“Okay!” Maria jumps off the stool, racing to the other side of the kitchen. Using his hold on my hand, Luke pulls me tighter against his side, looping his arm around my shoulder, resting our intertwined fingers against my collarbone. 

“How was your day?” he asks nonchalantly, fooling anyone with that surface level question. But I’m not just anyone, and I know the ways he asks the real questions  _(the twitch of his eye, the squeeze of his fingers, how_ ** _casual_** _he sounds). “How was_ ** _that_** _?”_  

 _“_ It was good,” I answer, returning the squeeze. “ _Later.”_  

Luke hums thoughtfully, not pressing the issue, calling out with an exaggerated, cartoon-y tone, “Who’s ready for dinosaur shaped mac and cheese?” 

“Me! Me! Me!”  

Dinner went without a hitch, Maria eating half the pot by herself, her endless chatter silencing the ever-nagging ghosts in my head.  _(You don’t deserve this, don’t deserve them, aren’t good enough-) “_ I’ll take bath time, if you take dishes.” 

“Deal.” 

Bath time is always an adventure- Maria’s epic sea battles between Mr. Yellow the Rubber Ducky and Miss Sea the Rubber Squid not only creates chaos for the boats splashing against the tub, but for the floor and whoever takes the honor of watching her and making sure she actually gets cleaned. “Hey, Papa,” Maria asks as I scrub condition into her hair. 

“Yes, love?” 

“Are you okay?” 

My hands pause, tangled in her curls, before resuming. “I’m better now. Why do you ask?” Maria hums, tipping her head back to look up at me with bright eyes.  

“You seem tired.” I smile softly. For someone so young, Maria is remarkably empathic. More than once, when Luke or I or both of us are spiraling, she just crawls into our arms and hugs us, our faces pressed into her tiny shoulder. Multiple adults at school have commented on it, saying that they have never met someone that could read people as well as Maria.  _(Luke wants to teach her poker, I told him he could when she was at least ten.)_  

“After bath time, there’s something I need to talk to you and Daddy about.” 

“Is it bad?”  _(Now isn’t that_ _the_ _question of the day.)_  

“Not necessarily, just serious.” 

Maria nods, turning her attention back to the drowning of one of the ships as I finish washing her hair, neatly lining her toys along the edge of the tub so they could dry as I pull out the bath stopper. I wrap her up in her towel  _(blue with neon pink stars stamped across it_ _with a little hood_ _attached to it_ _)_ , watching as she bounces out of the bathroom. Once she turns the corner, I rest my head against the bathroom wall, sitting on the clean and still slightly wet floor, listening to Maria’s squeal as Luke probably picks her up, swinging her up into the air.  

I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. 

 _(God, I don’t want this conversation, don’t want to open old wounds. But I have to- for Luke and Maria. For my peace of mind, I suppose.)_  

 _“_ Kain.” 

Opening my eyes, I look up at Luke, who’s leaning against the door frame with his arms cross against his chest. His eyes are soft, despite his tightly clutched fists  _(though there is protective fury lurking behind that softness, like a lion at the zoo- deceivingly pliant, but still dangerous; but never at me or Maria, never us)_. “Is this talk going to piss me off?” he asks, shifting his weight off his bad knee. 

 _“_ Yeah.” There’s no use in lying. 

Sharply breathing through his nose, his fists clutch tighter, knuckles threatening to turn white. I watch as he counts backwards from ten underneath his breath, the tension slowly seeping out of his body. He offers me his hand again, pushing off the door frame. “We better get out there- Maria's getting antsy with worry.” 

 _(Poor, sweet Maria, her mind always racing to the worst conclusion, her anxiety trying to get the be_ _st_ _of her.)_  

Luke pulls me up, and against him, kissing the top of my head, whispering, “Remember I got you.” I kiss our locked fingers, the cold metal of our rings sparking familiar warmth that curls around my heart  _(there are nights where I just stare at Luke curled around a sprawled out, snoring Maria and I wonder what I did to get so much love from two amazing people). “_ Hey, Little Mouse,” Luke calls as we come around the corner, Maria’s head snapping up from a very intense staring match with her night-gown covered knees. 

She climbs into my lap as soon as I sit on the couch, locking her arms around my neck. Luke throws an arm around my shoulder, pulling us into his side. Taking a deep breath, I slowly start, the words already feeling heavy in my throat, the knot threatening to strangle my voice  _(and my heart)_. “I saw my mother for the first time in twenty years today.” Luke’s hand squeezes my shoulder, a slightly tremor  _(anger, furious protectiveness)_  in his fingers. “Maria, have I ever told you why I haven’t seen my mother for that long?” She shakes her head, still damp hair almost slapping her in the face.  

“When I was sixteen, I told her my real name and that I liked boys and girls. She didn’t take it well.”  _(Liar, abomination, whore, get out of my fucking house until you get your head on straight- things she screamed at me as I drove off, arm broken and nose bloody, a duffel bag of clothes in my passenger seat and all the money I had been saving up over the years from doing odd jobs for my neighbors, tears stinging as I watched her_ _throw_ _things at my car, neighbors coming out of their houses to see the commotion, my siblings watching from the sidewalk.)_  

Brushing her hair from her face, I swallow, throat tight and dry. “Not long after that, I meet Gigi and Grandma who took me in, and that’s when I met Daddy.”  _(Finding a teenager digging through the dumpster behind their restaurant,_ _barely 100 pounds and_ _sporting_ _the remains of a_ _two-week-old_ _black eye is startling for anyone; but Lorena and Alyssa whisked me into the back to clean up my eye and feed me before taking me home_ _._ _)_  

 _“_ She messaged me on Facebook a few nights ago about wanting to see me.” 

 _“_ Did Daddy try to stop you?”  

Luke snorts, ruffling her hair.  _“_ I tried, but you know how Papa is. Believes the best in people.” I roll my eyes, headbutting his shoulder.  _(Hush whispers in bed, anger in Luke’s voice, hands clutching mine, trying to convince me to ignore the “bitch”, me wanting to believe maybe that she changed_ _for the better_ _.)_  

 _“_ We had lunch, and she told me that I have a 16-year-old sister who is graduating early from high school, and wants to meet me. I told her I would have to think about it before giving her my answer.”  _(Barely hidden anger underneath her flat voice, never having direct eye contact with me- the worst_ _hour_ _lunch I ever had.)_  “So, what do you guys think?” 

Luke breathes deeply through his nose, fingers now running up and down my forearm. “You know where I stand concerning your mother.”  _(I have only ever heard that much barely hidden venom and hatred in his voice when_ ** _she_** _comes up.)_ Nodding, I look at Maria- her head is gently rocking side to side, eyes turn up to the popcorn ceiling in quiet thought, fingers picking at the collar of my shirt. We just wait as she thinks it over. 

“I think we should go,” she starts,  _we_ stressed as hard as a six-year-old could stress a word, “because it’s not fair to your sister to not go just because  _she_  is mean.”  _She_ is spoken as though my mother is worse than the boogeyman  _(which she is, but for a six-year-old, that’s a massive thing_ _against_ _a woman that they have never met)_. “We don’t have to sit next to them- maybe just stand in the back and watch and say hi and give her our phone number and leave.” Least amount of contact possible- can't say that wasn’t my plan in the first place. 

I look up at Luke, who’s pondering the possible  _(and likely)_ plan. “That sounds fine to me.” 

“Okay,” I say, the tension in my muscles loosening, leaving me tired and emotionally exhausted. Maria presses a fish lip kiss to my cheek, and Luke takes her place to kiss my lips, sweet and soft. “I’m ready for bed.” 

“Then it’s bedtime,” Luke says with a teasing tone, muscles flexing as he scoops us both up, carrying us to bed like a  _(the)_ knight in a muscle shirt and sweats  _(that he is)_. 

 **_~*~*~*~*~*~_ ** 

The sound of clapping echoes in my ears, mostly because Maria is perched on my shoulders, heels excitedly swinging and digging into my shoulders. “Remember our graduation,” Luke stage whispers to me, affectionately knocking hips with mine. I smirk, returning the affection with a hip bump of my own. 

“What little I actually remember of it from the hungover haze from our early drinking celebration the night before? Yes.” 

Luke throws back his head and laughs, as the graduates throw their caps in the air, navy blue squares spiraling in the air accompanied by more loud cheering. The graduates dispense as adults hone in on the teenagers, bodies colliding. We stay underneath the shade of our tree, seeing no reason to get trampled to death, watching as a girl pushes out of the crowd, head whipping around, searching for something. “Is that her?” Maria asks, fingers nervously playing with my hair. Pulling out and unlocking my phone, I pull up the photo that I had to scavenge through my mother’s Facebook  _(littered with hypocritical posts about loving thy neighbor and family is forever)_.  

“Yeah, that’s her,” I say as I repocket my phone, raising my voice, “excuse me, Miss Elizabeth?” 

The girl’s head snaps up to lock eyes with me, eyes narrowing with suspicion. She walks up to us, relaxed posture betrayed by her tightly clutched fists  _(probably prepared to try and fight us if need be)_. “Yes? Do I know you?” 

I stick out a hand, “No, but you did somehow convince our mother to extend an invitation to me.” Confusion is slowly replaced by realization, confirming my and Luke’s suspicions  _(that my mother didn’t tell her anything about_ ** _me_** _)_. “I am curious about how you found out about me, let alone convince her to ask me to come.” 

Elizabeth blushes, shaking my hand. “I was going through some old family albums for a school project and I found an old picture of you. And since I’m blatantly Mother’s current favorite, she would let me get away with murder.”  _(I do_ _appreciate_ _her use of “old picture”.)_   

“Smart girl.” Her blush darkens at my compliment. “I’m Kain.” Shrugging my shoulders, making Maria giggle, and slipping my other hand into Luke’s waiting one, I continue, “This is Luke, my husband, and our daughter, Maria.” Luke and Maria take turns shaking Elizabeth’s hands, offering her reassuring smiles  _(well Luke is reassuring while Maria is open and honest)_.  

“It’s nice to meet you three.” She rubs the back of her neck, rocking back on her heels nervously  _(certainly not expecting for her request to actually come true)_. I hand Maria off to Luke, kissing her nose before I kiss Luke.  

“Maria,” I hush-whisper to her, “could you get us some drinks and keep Daddy out of trouble?” 

“Yup,” she hush-whisper back to me, squealing with laughter as Luke tickles her sides as he walks off _(eyes locking with mine, ‘be safe, I love you’ they say, mine saying ‘I love you’ back)_. Shaking my head, I turn back to Elizabeth, who silently watches the whole thing, smile soft and eyes hopeful. 

“We’ve been together since we were teenagers,” I say, drawing her attention back to me, “and just celebrated our ten-year anniversary three months ago. We adopted Maria when she was three; she’s turning seven in December.” 

“You guys are cute,” she comments, fidgeting with the sleeves of her gown. A moment of silence passes, then she takes a deep breath. “When I asked Mother about you, she got angry and short.” 

“I’m not surprised,” I dryly remark, leaning back against the tree, hands in my pockets. Taking a deep breath, figuring she might as well hear the story from me over whatever twisted version our mother will spin, I keep my eyes on Luke’s and Maria’s back. “When I was your age, I came out to her. She didn’t take it well and beat me. I drove off with what I had already thrown in my car, leaving her in the street screaming at me. Three months later, and recovering from getting the remainder of my cash stolen, I met Luke’s moms who took me in.”  

“Do you regret it?” Elizabeth asks, voice small, eyes down casted. And suddenly I’m seeing myself, sixteen again, afraid to tell Lorena and Alyssa my story  _(afraid of getting hit again, afraid of getting rejected again)_. I smile, and slowly clasp her shoulder, drawing her eyes back up to mine. 

“No, I don’t. Do I regret that I can’t give Maria another grandmother, give Luke another woman that he could affectionally call mom? Yes. But I don’t regret being honest about myself. And if sacrificing a toxic relationship with our mother is the price I have to pay to wake up next to the love of my life because our beautiful daughter decided to make us cereal in bed, knowing that I am loved and happy, then it’s a price I’ll pay without any hesitation for the rest of eternity.” 

Over her shoulder, I could see our mother storming up, a haggle of siblings, some I recognize and most I do not, following right behind her like obedient ducklings. Her hair is grayer, more wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, but there is still the disapproving frown, the angry scrunch of her eyebrows.  _(It’s amazing how time and distance changes your perspective of someone- once I saw her as a god, someone to follow without question; once I saw her as a monster, my biggest demon that screamed at me that I was worthless, broken, and didn’t deserve happiness; now I see her as a bitter old woman, who doesn’t know what happiness and love is, let alone what it feels like.)_  

I squeeze Elizabeth’s shoulder, slipping a piece of paper into her hand, closing her fingers around it. “Here’s my number, if you ever need me.” 

She nods, “Thank you.” 

“I wish you luck and complete happiness,” I tell her as I walk past her, walking past our mother.  

“I see you still dress like a boy,” she hisses, glaring at me.  

Unimpressed, I dance around her, walking past her with my middle fingers directed at her, “That’s because I am a man, and I’m going home to drop my daughter off for the night with her grandmothers so my husband can fuck me until I can’t see or think straight.” Ignoring her offended, horrified screech and millions of watching eyes, my middle fingers still in the air, I walk over to where Luke and Maria are waiting, watching.  

“That was cool, Papa,” Maria immediately tells me, pulling at Luke’s pant leg to grab mine. 

“Oh yeah,” Luke purrs, kissing me, dropping his voice to whisper, “cool and very sexy.” 

Cheeks warm, I laugh, kissing him again, taking Maria’s hand as Luke takes her other one. “Let’s go home.” Maria laughs wildly when Luke and I start swinging her, even doing a small run each time to give us more momentum to swing her higher, all the way to the car, parked at the little playground across from the school.  

It’s nice to be going home. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my final story for my Creative Writing 1 class, and I like it enough to post it. Please give critiques- I had two friends (one of whom is trans who helped with the trans parts in the story) read it before my class read/reviewed it.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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